


Dressed

by evil_whimsey



Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Timeline, Haruhi is done with your nonsense, Hitachiin Hikaru is very bothersome, Hitachiin twins are trouble, Ignoring Canon, Kyouya's job is hard yo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 04:44:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2838413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evil_whimsey/pseuds/evil_whimsey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>However you looked at it, Fujioka Haruhi was not that kind of princess.</i><br/>(Originally written a really long time ago.  Like, before manga Chapter 57 came out.  Hence the plot.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dressed

_"...I remember yes,_  
in my peach party dress,  
No one dared  
no one cared to tell me  
where the pretty girls are..." 

_\--Tori Amos_

 

"Haru-hiii," wheedled Hikaru.  "Come out, already.  We're late for the party."

From behind the door came the muffled response, "I'm not coming out in this."

"She sounds pretty final," Kaoru murmured to his brother.  "Maybe we should give this one up."

Hikaru cast a scornful look at his brother.  "What else will you wear?" he called to the door.  "Your uniform is out here.  Might as well try the dress on, at least, neh?"

There was a pause, and the door cracked open just wide enough for the mass of green silk and ribbon to be ejected out and onto the floor.  At the end of a pale bare arm, a dainty hand was extended, palm up.

"Give me my uniform."  
"Nope," said Hikaru.  
"Give me my uniform, or I'm never talking to you again."  She sounded deadly serious too, and this worried Kaoru.

"Hikaru!" he hissed nervously.  "Don't you think we're taking this too far?"  But if anything, Hikaru only looked more determined.  

"Have it your way," he announced.  "I'll just go tell Hunny-senpai and Mori-senpai you don't want to come to their party."  
"Tell them whatever you want!" she cried, snatching her arm back and slamming the door.  "I don't care!"

"Oh hell," said Kaoru.

**  
The colored lanterns strung above the courtyard bobbed gently in the evening breeze.  Bathed in their glow, the guests mingled, laughed, and waltzed to the music of a nearby string quartet.  There were long tables off to one side, covered in crisp white linen and arrayed with silver platters of exquisite hors d'oeuvres, and a fountain close by poured out sparkling pomegranate punch.

"Isn't this beautiful!" a Senior girl remarked to her friend.  "And how lovely of the Host Club, to throw us a graduation party."  
"I hear it's their last party with Mitsukuni-san and Takashi-san.  It seems a little sad, in a way, doesn't it?"  Both girls sighed wistfully, gazing at the festive table laden with cakes and ices, where Hunny and Mori held the place of honor.

"But you mustn't be sad, Princesses."  Suoh Tamaki glided into view, in his immaculately tailored tuxedo, offering crystal flutes of punch for each girl.  "We're here to toast the future of our friends, and the promise of new beginnings for everyone."

"Oh, Tamaki-kun," said one of the girls.  "We're going to miss you next year."  
Gently, Tamaki caught her hand and brought it to his lips.  "Only keep me in your heart, dear Lady, as I shall keep you in mine.  Then, shall we never be separated."

"Ahhh!"  Both girls swooned in chorus.

"Ehh, Tono?" came a voice at Tamaki's elbow.  
"Yes Kaoru?" he answered, giving the intruder a sidelong look.  
"Can I speak with you a moment?  Privately?"

**

Across the courtyard, Kyouya was in conversation with the school Chairman, Suoh Yuzuru.

"I must congratulate you on this elegant gathering," the man commented, then chuckled.  "You know, some of the School Board were uncertain about a Host Club providing suitable entertainment for our graduates.  I had to assure them of the Club's excellent reputation."

"We appreciate your endorsement, Mr. Chairman," said Kyouya.  "It's an honor to entertain this year's Seniors, for their final High School event."  
"And it's good for Haninozuka and Morinozuka too, is it not?"  the Chairman pointed out.  "This way, they can celebrate with their peers, and their friends from the Club."

"Yes, of course," Kyouya agreed.  Glancing with the Chairman toward Hunny and Mori's table, his eye searched the party for anything else which might require his attention.  Something did stand out to him, though it wasn't immediately clear whether it was urgent.

_Where is the rest of the Host Club?_ he wondered.  Apparently, so did Chairman Suoh.

"I don't believe I've seen your First-Year members. The Hitachiin brothers, and Fujioka?"  The man didn't mention his son.  Perhaps he hadn't noticed Tamaki was missing as well.  Hadn't he been over by the punch fountain, moments ago?

"Kaoru and Hikaru volunteered to oversee catering for the event," he explained.  "They may be still involved with those duties at present."  
"It's commendable of them," said the Chairman.  "Though it seems a shame they won't enjoy the party with their friends."

"You're right, Mr. Chairman.  I should see whether they require any assistance."  Kyouya had certain suspicions about those absent, but it was best if he kept them to himself.  "I'm sorry, sir.  Please excuse me?"

**

"What do you mean, she won't come out?"  Tamaki asked, cornering Kaoru near the hedge maze, well off from the party.  
"I told Hikaru to forget about the dress, but he wouldn't.  And now she refuses to talk to either of us!"

"Dress?" Tamaki cocked his head in confusion.  "I thought we had a tuxedo made for her."  
"Well, sure," Kaoru said evasively.  "We just thought we'd try a surprise.  Here," pulling a catalogue clipping from his pocket, and unfolding it for Tamaki.  "Like this."

Tamaki stared at the photo of the dress, his eyes going wide.  "That's....that's...."  
"Nice, isn't it?" Kaoru provided, with only a hint of smugness.  
"Extraordinary," Tamaki breathed.

"Only she won't wear it.  Flat out refused.  Maybe final Exams got to her; I don't know, but I've never seen her like--."  
He was interrupted by the distinctive ring of a mobile phone.  Tamaki answered.

"Yes, Mother?"

**

"Tamaki, do you realize there's a party going on in the courtyard?  One which we are hosting?"  
"Yes, of course--"  
"And that we have more than fifty guests, wondering at the current moment, where the rest of the Host Club is?"  
"Sure, I was just there.  I only stepped away to speak with....someone."

"Tamaki, where is Hitachiin Kaoru?"  
"Ah, he's with me."  
"And Hitachiin Hikaru?"  
"We were just getting to that."

"I see.  Do you, by any chance, know Haruhi's whereabouts?"  
"She's still in the Third Music room.  Having a problem with--er--her wardrobe, I think."

Kyouya sighed.  "Please don't tell me they tried to make her wear that dress."  
"What?  How did you know about the dress?  No one told me--"  
"Tamaki."  
"--first I've heard about--"  
"Tamaki."  
"--and it's certainly exquisite, but--"  
"Dad!" Kyouya barked into the phone, halting Tamaki's rambling.

"Yeah?"  
"Would you please escort both Hitachiin brothers back to the party, before the Chairman and everyone else decides we've all abandoned it?"  
"But what about our daughter?  Kaoru says she won't leave the changing room."  
"Tamaki.  Please take Kaoru, Hikaru, and yourself to the courtyard, now.  I will speak to Haruhi."

"But why can't I go with you?"  
"You have seen the dress, correct?"

"Kaoru showed me a photo.  But what does that have to do with anything?"  
"Let's just say I doubt you'll be bargaining from a position of strength, in the matter.  Go attend the party now.  I'll have Haruhi down shortly."

"Oh look, here's Hikaru.  Should I ask him--"  
"Just take him with you, and keep your eye on him.  I'll have a word with both of them later.  Good-bye Tamaki."

 

**

 

Clad only in her underclothes, Haruhi stood on the chair on tiptoe and reached as far as she could, toward the bookshelf where Hikaru had left her school uniform.  She was going to kill Hikaru.  She was going to get dressed, and track him down, and kill him for doing this.

Her toes were cramping, and her right arm burning, it was stretched so high.  But her uniform remained just far enough out of reach to tease her.  If she wasn't so angry at the moment, she thought she might cry from sheer exhaustion.  That afternoon, she had completed her last exam of the year, and she could hardly remember what life had been like before Finals Week, back when she slept more than three hours a night. 

With a frustrated groan, she relaxed her stance in the chair, let her arm fall, and thumped her forehead gently against the lower shelf.  Her nerves were shot.  All she'd wanted was to make it through this party, and go home and rest.  But no.  Of course the twins had to have their last prank, and of course Hikaru would decide to be stubborn about it, and keep pushing even when she was well out of patience with him.

What was wrong with them?  Didn't they understand that sometimes a person--even someone as passive as she--reached the point where they'd been pushed around and coerced enough?  Granted, there were issues at work here, that both the twins had somehow _imprinted_ on her as the only thing outside their narrow world worth their time.   But hadn't she earned a little empathy from them, in the arrangement?

"It doesn't matter," she said aloud, staring at the books in front of her.  "I don't care."  To hell with the twins, and to hell with the party, and the rest of the Host Club.  She was going home to rest.  As soon as she got her clothes.

The shelf above her was two, maybe three inches higher than she could reach on tiptoe.  No doubt she'd fall and kill herself, if she tried to climb the shelves; there had to be some other way to get those extra inches.  Too bad the books didn't have any answers--.

Oh wait.  The books.

**

Kyouya approached the Third Music Room, checking for the documents folded in the pocket of his tuxedo.  He'd intended to postpone giving them away until after the party, preferably in private, when the contents could be explained.  Unfortunately things weren't going as planned, and thanks to Hikaru's interference, it would take considerable leverage to keep Haruhi from abandoning them altogether.

The irony was not lost on him, that the gift he'd meant to give her freely would become a bribe instead.  Evidently that cliché was proving true, about old habits being hard to break.  What a nuisance.

Facing the door, fingers poised on the curved brass handle, he readied himself for the important scene to follow.  It was safe to assume she'd be irate, barricaded in the changing room and ready for siege.  He should take care to be understanding, but not patronizing.  Cool, but not intimidating.  It was pointless to expect gratitude for his offer; this would be an exchange after all, and she was certainly astute enough to see that.   The most he could hope for was that she'd choose to focus on the fairness of the arrangement, rather than-- _Oh merciful ancestors she was naked._

He'd entered the room wholly absorbed in his logic, and failed to register that he wasn't alone.  Unexpectedly, Haruhi was not barricaded in the changing room, but instead out in the main room, climbing the bookcase in her underwear.  The discovery was a shock for them both.

At the sound of the door, she gasped and wobbled dangerously on the chair she'd used for a ladder.  A stack of books slipped from beneath her feet, and Kyouya darted forward instinctively to catch her, as they thumped to the floor.  But she grabbed a shelf and righted herself just in time.

For five full seconds, they stared at each other across the space of a meter or two.  Both of them frozen, unblinking, hardly daring to breathe.  Then Kyouya's brain kicked violently back into gear, and he squeezed his eyes shut and spun about on his heel.

His first thought was, _I am a victim of cliché._   And his second, _I really should have stayed at the party._   Meanwhile, Haruhi's bare legs and shoulders were blazing off his retinas, and he felt his cheeks flaming outrageously.

"I beg your pardon," he managed, flailing for his composure.  "You weren't where I expected you to be."  

Her apology sounded a little breathless.  "Sorry, Senpai.  I was trying to reach my clothes."

He removed his glasses to polish them, as if doing so might erase the diabolical slide show running behind his eyes; bare feet, slim ankles, the velvet curve at the backs of her knees-- _stop this right now_. 

"Your clothes are on the bookshelf?" he asked.  He could hardly be blamed for not noticing.  
"Hikaru put them there.  I couldn't reach."

He was going to kill Hikaru.  If Kaoru found it impossible to live without his twin, so much the better.

"Will it do me any good to ask where your outfit for the party is?"  
"I'm not wearing that dress to the party," she said, with some asperity.  "Especially not after all this."  Oddly, the firmness in her tone steadied his own nerves somewhat.

"I didn't mean the dress, I meant the tuxedo that was made for you.  Do you know where that is?"

"Oh.  No, they didn't tell me."  
He was going to kill Hikaru _repeatedly_.  "I'd like to look for it, if you don't mind waiting in the next room."  Adding, "I'll retrieve your uniform, as well."

There was a pause for decision, and then she sighed, "Fine."

**

Damn.  She was trapped in the changing room again.  

Listening to Kyouya-senpai's footsteps across the marble floor, as he looked for her tuxedo, Haruhi knew there would be no arguing her way out this time.  If she even had the nerve to try, he would only remind her that she'd already agreed to join the party as a Host.  And if she put up a fuss after that, he'd find some way to bring her debt into it.  Which was usually humiliating, and sometimes intimidating too; especially if he stood with the light refracting off his glasses, hiding his eyes and making him look like a Force or a Being instead of a person.  

If there was any bright side to the current situation, it was that she wasn't angry anymore.  Somewhere in the surprise and embarrassment at being caught without her clothes, most of her bad mood had disappeared.  And out of all the people who could've walked in on her, at least Kyouya-senpai reacted sensibly.  He didn't stammer nonsense, or collapse, or otherwise act like his brain had fallen out.  There was that long moment when they'd stared at each other, dumb with astonishment, but that was....what was that, actually?

She'd almost thought normal, but Kyouya had never looked like that before, had he?  His expressions were either cool, or amused, or intrigued, and very often they were simply unreadable.  Blank.  But what about his face a few minutes ago?

Out of nowhere came the strangest idea. _He looked like he'd been caught undressed, too._   Unprotected.  Vulnerable.  Without a single mask or calculated response to stand in for him.

Leaning against the door, she shivered a little.  That was a deep thought.  And intriguing as it might be, there was no way it could lead anywhere good. She wasn't one of the Host Club's pretty, idle customers.  She was a poor scholarship student working off an enormous debt.  Sure, the Host Club men were beautiful, rich, and much admired.  But she had to be immune to their charms, lest she forget who they were, and who she was, and one day find herself hoping for impossible things out of the arrangement.  That was just plain common sense, and the only chance she had of keeping her sanity.

But this new idea was persistent.  It had been _Kyouya_ looking vulnerable, and wasn't that against the laws of physics, or something?  What in the world would make him look at her like that?

When he knocked at the door, it gave her a guilty start, as though she'd been interrupted snooping somewhere she shouldn't.

"I have your clothes," he said.

She opened the door a crack, saw only his hand, dangling the hanger with her tuxedo.  It took her a second to understand why he went to the trouble of standing beside the door, facing away for the handoff, and then she had to grin a little.  In the end, you could always count on the Host Club for chivalry.  Kyouya would go to the trouble, to give her privacy in the changing room.  And he probably didn't even think twice about it.

"Thanks," she said, and took the hanger.   
Before she could close the door, she heard him say, "One other thing," and the hand was back, offering out her folded school uniform.

She took it from him, confused.  Surely he wasn't giving her a choice, was he?

"I should return to the party as soon as possible.  It would help if you decided quickly," he said.

Maybe it was some kind of test, or yet another of his games where only he knew the rules.  Attempting to shake off her perplexity, she said, "I'm....um.  You can go ahead, Senpai, if you need to."  
"I think it's best I wait."  His tone suggesting he knew something she didn't.

With a certain amount of foreboding, she shut the door and turning, heard something fall out of the tuxedo jacket.  
"Eh, Senpai, there are some papers with this suit."  She bent down to get them, heard him saying, "They're yours."  
"Mine?"  After setting aside her clothes, she unfolded the papers for a closer look.  They weren't anything she recognized.  The top sheet was heavy linen paper, with a printed border, and official-looking script, like a certificate of some kind.  Stamped at the bottom, in red ink, were the words:  

_**PAID IN FULL** _

.

At first, she couldn't make sense of it.  And then when she read more carefully, she couldn't believe it.

The next papers were graphs and charts; Kyouya's projection of the Host Club's earnings for the next school year, with estimates on costs and profits, organized by member.  There was a column with her name, and rather a large sum of money at the bottom, listed as  _ **PROJECTED NET EARNINGS.**_

_Earnings?_ she thought.  Her head was starting to feel queer and off-kilter, as though her brain had come loose and was revolving slowly inside her skull.

The final page was a simple contract.  Very simple.  A few sentences, and a place for two signatures, and the date.  _Ootori Kyouya_ was one signature; the other space was blank.

There was no telling how long she stood there, staring at the papers, her eyes going back and forth from the PAID IN FULL to the PROJECTED NET EARNINGS.  The logic was all there, she understood what was written.  She just couldn't absorb it; couldn't fit both the information and herself into the same context.  So she kept looking, from the certificate, to the projections, to the contract.

Eventually it was too much to take.  Her knees wobbled, and she slumped to the floor like she'd been poleaxed.

**

From behind the closed door came the distinct _thump_ of a body hitting the carpet.  Kyouya winced.  
"Haruhi?  Is something wrong?"  Not a very bright question, but then he hadn't expected her to drop from shock at his offer.

At first there was no answer, and he knocked.  "Haruhi?"

"I'm.  I'm alright.  It's okay," she replied faintly.  Kyouya rested his forehead against the wall, felt his shoulders relax a notch.  He was unsure what he would have done if she hadn't answered.  Perhaps it was best not to think about it.

Moments later, the door swung open and Haruhi came sleepwalking out, more or less dressed in her tuxedo.  He experienced a swell of relief coupled with minor confusion.  Relief since, assuming she'd dressed consciously, the tuxedo meant she accepted at least the first part of his terms, and would join the party as final payment against her debt.  Confusion because, well, had she dressed with her eyes closed?

Her shirt was tucked in crooked, the sleeves bunched up around her jacket elbows.  The collar was twisted, and what on earth had she done with that bowtie?  He approached carefully, seeing her glassy look, the eyes of someone gone a million miles off in their thoughts.  Somehow, he hadn't anticipated his offer having quite this effect, otherwise he most certainly would have found some way to present it after the party.  As it was, they obviously weren't going anywhere soon.

"Haruhi?" he asked, waving his hand in front of her eyes.  
"Hm?"  she blinked slowly, not really seeing him.

He sighed.  "Here, your tie needs fixing."  People seeing her like this would draw every wrong conclusion.  The guests.  The Host Club.  _Tamaki_.  Best he get her sorted quickly.

At first he was uncomfortably conscious of his fingers knotting her bowtie, centimeters from touching her bare throat; a little too close for his comfort.   But she didn't react to his proximity.  She hardly even knew he was there, and he grew more confident.  He fixed the crease at the back of her collar, ignoring her hair tickling his fingers.  Rucked up the sleeve of her jacket, to tug the shirt cuffs down over her tiny wrists.  He did his best to remain detached, concentrating on making her presentable, and not contemplating the fact that he knew more than he did yesterday, about what she looked like under these clothes.  

Such knowledge did him no good.  At this juncture, it did no one any good.  Never mind that she was fascinating, contradictory, with her quick mind and stubborn will, wrapped in this vulnerable girlish frame.  Never mind the discovery of her calloused palms, that he'd never touched a girl whose hands were roughened by housework.  Never mind that it would be so easy to grow attached to her.  So very, very easy.

He worked at her cuffs until they lay neatly under the jacket sleeve, tugged at the lapels until they were perfectly even, and was thoughtlessly on the verge of buttoning her jacket, when he chanced to look up and meet her eyes.  It was almost his undoing.  

She had come to and discovered him, seeming less surprised than _expectant_ , somehow.  Her eyes were warm and aware, lips parted on the edge of a soft question, and if there was ever a moment for a boy to bend down close and kiss a girl, surely this was it.  Nothing would need saying; he could lean in and touch his lips to hers, show her his heart, and belong to her for good.  He felt the moment rushing up to meet him, heady and sweet, as he looked at her.

Then she whispered.  "I'm free."  And something in his chest cracked wide open.  A terrible clarity flooded his thoughts, cold as ice water.

_This isn't the time._  

He pulled back and breathed deeply, feeling like lightning had struck and missed him by inches.  One moment of weakness, and he had almost upended both their lives.  He had obligations to three dozen people downstairs, not the least of whom was his best friend.  He was responsible for them, and for the future of the Host Club.  He'd taken responsibility for Haruhi's future too, offering her another year with the Host Club and the chance to earn money she would very likely need for college.  Would he really have gambled all that, to satisfy one selfish desire?

"Senpai?" Haruhi asked.  "Is something wrong?"  
Kyouya looked away, collected himself as best he could.  "We should go down, if you're ready.  People might start to worry soon."

"And then my debt really is paid.  That's what this certificate means, isn't it?"  
He nodded.  
She sighed heavily, looking grave in her thoughts.  Melancholy, even.

"Senpai, have you ever."  There was a pause, and she tried again.  "Have you ever gotten something you wanted very much, but then when you had it, it wasn't what you thought it would be?"

Had she become a mind-reader now?  Kyouya didn't know whether to laugh, or to tear his hair.  "I have."  
"If you hadn't come in, Senpai, I would have left.  I would have gone home, and skipped the party, and missed this," holding up the documents.  "I was angry, and sick of being pushed around by everyone.  But I'm not angry anymore.  I'm just."  She gestured helplessly.  "Nothing will be the same, after this.  It feels like tonight is the end of things."

He knew what she meant.  Hunny-senpai and Mori-senpai were leaving.  She might be leaving, for all he knew.  And as absurd as Tamaki's notion of the Host Club as a family was, there must be something to it.  Why else would Haruhi's words feel so much like homesickness to him?

"I don't disagree," he told her.  "But everything moves on, Haruhi.  Perhaps we don't all move apart, but we do continue moving on.  That's how it works.  Although it doesn't all have to end tonight."  Indicating the papers she held.  "Not if you agree to join us next year."

"Maybe you're right," she sighed.  "And I'd be stupid to turn down thirty million Yen."  
"I should probably tell you that's a conservative estimate.  You could do better, if you work hard."

She chuckled halfheartedly, gave him a wry smile.  "You really want me to sign that contract, don't you."  
He had to pretend a certain amount of nonchalance, answering.  "It's good for the Host Club to keep the assets it can.  In practical terms, everyone benefits from you staying with us."

"I'd like to think about it," she told him.  "Can I do that, and give you my decision later?"

It seemed reasonable enough.  After all, she hadn't had a choice about joining the first time.  And honestly, Kyouya had lost any desire to coerce her into things.  She was right about everything changing.  More right than she realized just now.

"I can give you time," he said, "on the condition that this is kept between us for now.  You could see for yourself the inconvenience, if others realize you're free to leave the Club, and might in fact do so."

"They might fall all over themselves to make me stay."  She looked mildly horrified.  "God, it could be like that time with the Zuka Club all over again."  
"Precisely," he nodded.    
"I won't tell anyone."

Glancing at his watch, he saw he'd been away from the party for a quarter of an hour.  He was amazed Tamaki hadn't sent up a search team yet.   
"So.  Are you ready to go now?" he asked.  
"Sure."

They crossed to the door together, passing the coat rack where Kyouya had hung the green dress for the twins to retrieve.  He paused for a last look, still unable to imagine what had possessed them to try and put her in such a thing.  It was a dress fit for a fairytale princess; an exquisite confection of satin, lace, and flounces.  Certainly beautiful, and he couldn't fault the twins' tastes; this was a dress to rouse the covetous envy of nearly every girl in the school.  

It had only one serious flaw:  however you looked at it, Fujioka Haruhi was not that kind of princess.

"Are you coming, Senpai?" She stood waiting at the door, ready now to help host this last party, ready to go forward and meet whatever the future would bring.

He couldn't see why anyone would want to make her into someone else.   There were too many things about her that shouldn't ever change.

**

"Ah, Fujioka," beamed Chairman Suoh.  "What a pleasure to see you here."  
"That's very kind, Mr. Chairman." Haruhi bowed.  "Thank you for coming to our party."

The evening was in full swing, and every guest was having a delightful time.  A jazz ensemble had replaced the string quartet, playing lively dance music, and the hanging lanterns overhead cast festive warmth all around.  Though some partygoers waxed nostalgic, it was impossible to dwell on sadness at such a gathering.  If any girl looked somber, it wasn't for long;  she quickly found a Host by her side, bringing her cheer.

*

"Where were you Haru-kun?" asked Hunny.  "Takashi and I were afraid you might not come."  
"Hm," Mori agreed.

"I'm sorry I was late," she answered.  "I didn't want to miss your party.  I just had trouble getting ready."  
Hunny peered closely at her.  "You weren't sad about anything, were you?"

Haruhi's cheeks reddened.  "Maybe a little.  I'll miss you both very much.  But I'm glad I came anyway."  
"Oh, Haruhi!"  Hunny's eyes glistened, and he tugged her into a tight embrace.  Mori leaned in and lay his hand on her shoulder.

Every girl in the vicinity sighed, clutched at her heart, and dabbed her eyes.    
"Such a touching scene!" they said.  "What beautiful devotion among boys!"

*

Having endured a stern talking-to from Tamaki, and a terrifying one from Kyouya off in the shadow of a quiet hedge, Hikaru gingerly made his way through the party, toward the main table.  It was time he faced Haruhi now.

"Hey," called his brother, waving from where Hunny, Mori, Tamaki, and Haruhi all sat in a happy group.  "Come join us, Hikaru."

Kaoru was perched on the arm of Haruhi's chair, and Hikaru approached from the opposite side.  
"I just talked to Kyouya," he murmured.  "He says you and I have to stay and clean all this up afterward."

Kaoru shrugged philosophically.  "I figured something like that would happen.  Tried to tell you."  
Hikaru shot a brief glance at Haruhi, laughing with Hunny and Tamaki.  "Would you tell her I'm sorry?" he said quietly.

His brother snorted, and elbowed him affectionately.  "Idiot.  I already apologized.  Tell her yourself."  He slipped from the chair arm, and neatly shoved Hikaru over to take his place.

*

A photographer worked among the guests, capturing memories of the party for the Special Host Club Year-End Photobook, an edition available exclusively to that year's graduates.  On his way through the crowd, Kyouya steered the photographer gently away from the table where Chairman Suoh enjoyed himself, and toward the main table, where the Host Club had congregated.

"Excuse me, Kyouya-kun?" said a girl at his elbow.  
"Yes, Mitsuko-senpai," he smiled.  "What can I do for you?"  
"I was just wondering, are there any group photographs being taken?  I mean, of all the Host Club together?"  
"Now that you mention it, I don't believe there have been."  He nodded toward the photographer, who took the cue. "But it's an outstanding idea for the Photobook."

She blushed and smiled.  "Thank you, Kyouya-kun."

*

Hikaru sat next to Haruhi, looking awkward and contrite.  
"Kyouya said you almost quit the Host Club because of what I did," he said quietly.

Angling a bit away from the others, she replied in an undertone.  "I was angry, Hikaru.  You can't just bully people when they don't do what you want."  
"So it's true then?"  he blinked at her, stunned.  "You really would've quit?"  
"You didn't believe Kyouya-senpai?"  
Hikaru shrugged.  "I thought the dress would be fun.  Like at the festival party."

"Did you stop to think maybe that wasn't much fun for me?  Anyway, nobody would've fallen for that Lady Natsumi story a second time."

"I'm sorry I hid your clothes.  Are you still mad at me?"  
"I decided I'd rather enjoy this time with my friends, than be mad.  Does that make sense?"  
"I guess."

"Pull in closer, everyone!" Tamaki cried, off to their left.  "We're getting a Host Club group photo!  Here let's have the twins down in front, and you Hunny-senpai move closer to Haruhi, yes, don't forget Usa-chan."  He directed them all into their places, until Kyouya came by and dragged him over to stand behind Haruhi, next to Mori.  Kyouya himself took the place at Haruhi's other side.

"All right everyone, on the count of three!" said Tamaki.

Haruhi chanced a quick peek up at Kyouya.  
 _"One!"_  
"It's a good party, Senpai," she said.  "I'm glad I came."

_"Two!"_   The guests voices rose to join in the count.  
"It wouldn't have been the same without you," he replied.

_"Three!"_   the group shouted.  
Facing the camera, Haruhi grinned broadly and said, "We'll have to think of an even better party next year."

"Smile, everyone!"

The camera flashed, fixing them all forever, together on one bright frame of film.  Mori's rare broad smile, Hunny with Usa-chan in his lap and one arm over Haruhi's shoulder.  Kaoru and Hikaru seated in front, flashing symmetrical V-for-Victory signs and identical grins.  Tamaki with a hand on Mori's shoulder, beside himself with joy, and Haruhi and Kyouya both laughing, laughing, laughing.

The guests applauded wildly, and the band struck up another song.

 

*****


End file.
